A Long, Winding Road
by Heaven's Archer
Summary: Long before he was "Ziggy Grover, Operator Series Green", he was just Ziggy. Before Ziggy, he was someone else again. Ziggy had a perfect act though, and nobody saw through it. An alternative backstory for Ziggy that will, theoretically, continue throughout the RPM series.
1. Prologue

_AN: I own nothing. This is my NaNoWriMo work, I'm hoping that by posting it, it will give me a little more incentive to keep going._

**Prologue**

Ziggy Grover was an…interesting character to say the very least. He joked too much and talked too often. He was considered an accident waiting to happen by the majority of the people that knew him and was a complete trouble magnet. He seldom thought before acting, often leading hi into even messier situations, and rarely did he seem to know what he was doing.

Zigger Grover was many things.

He was an innocent child and a jaded victim. He was the puppet being thrown around by the tugs of other and the puppeteer pulling the strings. He was a student of all and the silent teacher of many. He was the dependant and the provider. He was the hero saving the day and the villain dragging it down. Both serious and joking, he was an artist, a scholar.

Ziggy Grover was a fighter, and god had he fought. He was a survivor with the tales to prove it.

You see, Ziggy Grover was many things but no one thought for a second, not even Ziggy himself, that 'Power Ranger' would be something he would become. But everyone else thought he would fail, Ziggy knew better. Ziggy knew that it would be something he succeeded at, despite his reluctance. He knew that he was the underdog, but what the others didn't know - what nobody knew - was just what he could do.

Because above all else? Ziggy was an actor. And he had played his part flawlessly until no one could distinguish the act from the reality.


	2. Chapter 1: Born

**Born**

Once upon a time, there was a girl. The girl was very smart but, above else, she was kind and although she wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense, her inner beauty shone through from within and it made her _glow_. The girl was a senior in high school and on top of all her classes, part of many extracurricular activities, including track and choir. She was the girl that tended to float between all the 'cliques', able to be friends with everyone, winning people over with a warm smile and a laughing story. She was on the verge of being accepted to many of the top colleges, with scholarships on the table. Her future, right at that second, looked very bright indeed, and her future was limitless.

Once upon a time, there was a boy. This boy wasn't the smartest or the kindest. He tended to laugh a little too hard at the faults of others and spent more time on his friends than his homework. However he was very handsome and very athletic. He was the captain of the football team, and enjoyed playing basketball in the neighbourhood competition. He had his group of friends, fellow footballers and athletes, and he was very happy with that. He enjoyed his life and he didn't see any reason for it to change, for enjoying life was all he wanted from the world. He partied every weekend and he had lines of beautiful women clamouring for his attention. He was one of the top athletes in the state and was looking good to be taken to college on a sport scholarship, playing the things he loved. His future, right then, looked very bright indeed, and his future was limitless.

Once upon a time, towards the middle of their senior year, boy and girl crossed paths at a party.

The boy, being used to these sorts of things, was drinking and having fun with his friends. He was dancing his heart out laughing loudly.

The girl, not enjoying herself much at all, was dragged there by a friend. She danced a little and spoke to some people she recognised. She didn't drink the alcohol…that she knew of. But the punch had been spiked and she didn't realise until she was quite drunk.

The boy and girl laughed together and danced together. Eventually they fell in bed together.

A couple of weeks after this party, the girl had been feeling sick and she worried. She had missed her period and she was feeling queasy through the day. That was the first clue. The second, very definite clue was the little line on the pregnancy test. She had been preparing for the last term of school and life had been looking very good.

But oh how she cried.

Girl asked some friends about the party, and they said she'd gone off with the boy, so she set off to find him. Boy and Girl had never really talked much, but this was as much his problem as hers and he had a right to know. The boy and girl argued for weeks, hushed arguments in abandoned halls, in the brief moments between all their activities and classes before their friends came looking. Butbefore much time had passed, the boy's parents overheard and told the girl's parents.

The girl was kicked out and disowned, crying and begging on the street as her parents threw her belongings out of the house into the dirt.

The boy was told that he needed to take the consequences of his actions. The two were forced to get married by the boy's parents, because it was proper and right.

Neither got their scholarship.

Neither went to college.

Neither could think of a way to escape.

Neither could think of a way to make this better.

7 months later, late in the year of 2001, Samson Edward Gardener was born to Alex Gardener and Diana Gardener nee Edmonds.

He wasn't very welcome, not under these circumstances. Alex's parents sent them barely any money because they said that they brought this all upon themselves and believed they should handle it the same way. Alex didn't even come to the hospital to see him born. Diana knew she would love him though, eventually. Little Sammy deserved it.

He didn't deserve to be judged by his parents' mistakes.

Diana swore to herself to herself, then and there, that no matter what happened, Samson would be her first priority.


	3. Chapter 2: Names

**Names**

Samson was growing up a small, fragile boy. He was just on the side of too short, a little too skinner and definitely a little more frail and breakable looking than the other kids his age. Diana knew that he wasn't being fed enough, but even with herself and Alex working full time there just never seemed to be enough after they tried to pay the bills. Diana was herself losing the ability to brush off other peoples' concerns with 'naturally thin' when she knew that looking too closely revealed her ribs.

Sammy was a very serious little boy, as well. Another thing she desperately wished she could change. He had to go through things other children his age didn't, after all. Not many of the kids at his school had their parents yelling and screaming every night: throwing things in fits of anger or hitting each other until one, usually Diana, screamed and sobbed. They didn't learn to count by helping their mum's count the small amount of money they had left for food after paying for their run down, broken apartment. But little Sammy was smart, oh so smart. Much smarter than his mother had been at this age, a tender 2, and he picked up on everything his mother simply wished he'd forget. He was already speaking very well structured sentences and Senor and Senora Michaels next door, who babysitted for her whenever she needed to work, chatted to him in Spanish so often he was starting to chatter back in kind. Diana tried so hard to nurture his mind but their situation didn't allow for much.

Diana was still the only one that had anything to do with the poor child, and she had been right, she did come to love him fiercely, as a mother should. His bright green eyes and mess of curly brown hair was endearing and when he gripped her legs and called 'mummy' as he tottered about on his little legs it made her heart leap with joy and made everything seem a little more worth it. He brought life into her otherwise grey world and every moment she spent with him made her heart a little lighter.

Today, they were at the park. Diana had a few hours break before she was due at her job at the diner and she always made sure to use what little time she had with Sammy. It wasn't fair, to him or to the Michaels, to not take him, not that she'd have it any other way. Sure, the extra sleep would have been lovely, but seeing her son's bright smile was better than any nap could ever feel. Originally, she'd felt uncomfortable being around him and everything he did seemed to frustrate her to the point of tears (Senora Michaels found her crying in the hallway one day with a crying Sammy next to her and rushed her into her own family's apartment to make her tea and feed her a little. She explained to her what Post-Natal Depression was and helped her through it. Sometimes Diana felt like the only reason Sammy and her were alive was because Senora Michaels found them that day. God knows Alex didn't notice anything). But now she smiled as she looked over to where Sammy was squatting and digging through the sand. Now, she couldn't imagine anything being different. She loved this little ball of sunshine more than anything in her bleak world and she would move heaven and earth for him.

She glanced over to where Sammy was running around after what looked to be a butterfly, its shining, green wings glowed as the sun hit it just right and Sammy was amazed. He was laughing and giggling as he chased after the insect, scrambling over logs and running around the little bushes in his was. Diana smiled as she pushed herself up from the park chair, sneaking over behind him and lifting him up into the air. Sammy squealed and laughed as Diana blew on his tummy and threw him upwards, catching his too-light body and spinning him around.

'Look a' the pwetty bu'erfly, Mama!' He grinned, his eyes shining as he looked up through his mop of curls.

Diana cuddled him close and turned to look at where the butterfly was now resting upon a flower, lazily drifting its wings open and shut. 'I saw! I think you wore that little butterfly out with all that zigging and zagging you were doing around here! It's amazing he didn't get caught! One day, I bet you'll be fast enough to catch him.'

Ziggy grinned, wrapping his small arms around her neck and rest his cheek on her collarbone. 'Ziggy zaggy…' he murmured as he started to doze.

'Yes, my little Ziggy,' Diana smiled gently as she pressed a feather-light kiss upon the top of his forehead and clutched him close, starting the walk home.

**XOXOXOX**

Alex frowned as he watched the brat running around. 'What the hell did you do with him at the park to get him so riled up?' he asked Diana angrily, glaring at the small child rushing around their too small apartment.

'Ziggy zaggy!' Sammy proclaimed, laughing as he ran around the small space.

'Little Ziggy here was chasing butterflies, weren't you, darling boy?' Diana grinned from the small kitchenette as she watched him enjoying himself.

'He better not break anything, or it's on your head.' Alex warned as Diana looked at him sideways and nodded carefully as he left for the nightshift.

'Mama! Mama! Up!' Ziggy called as he tugged on her pants.

'What is it, baby?' Diana asked as she pulled him up and helped him swing around. 'You're going to have to piggy back, Mummy has to do some work.'

Sammy nodded solemnly, 'Why call Ziggy?' he asked , worrying his lip.

'Why did I call you Ziggy?' Diana clarified, feeling him nod against her neck as he peered over to watch her making the watery soup. 'Well, when someone loves you very much, sometimes they take a thing you do or a thing you remind them of…or even just shorten your real name, and they call you by it instead of your real name! Like how I sometimes call you Sammy, remember? It's called a nickname, baby.'

Sammy frowned a little, 'Wha' abou' the names Daddy calls you? Are they nicknames?'

Diana flinched slightly at the reminder of the man, 'No, definitely not, and I never want to hear you use the kind of language your father uses, ever. Understand?'

Sammy nodded solemnly. 'So, because I wan weally weally fast, you decided tha' a good name would be Ziggy? Because I ziggy zaggy all the time.'

Diana held back a laugh, 'Yes! The best thing about a nickname, is that you can keep it between two people, or a small group of people, or you can have everybody call you it, if you prefer it to your real name.'

'So, if I don' weally like Samson, I can get people t' call me Ziggy instead?' He questioned. Diana closed her eyes and a sad expression crossed her face as she remembered that each time Alex came home drunk or just angry he always screamed at Sammy using his full name.

'Exactly! See, you got that rather quick. You're one very smart man, little Ziggy.' Diana twisted her neck and kissed his cheek as he giggled and cuddled closer.

'Can you always call me Ziggy, mama?' He asked quietly.

'If that's what you want, baby. I'll call you whatever you want me too.'

'I'd really like tha'.' He whispered.

'Well then, Ziggy, while I'm cooking, how about you go practice your letters? Just like I showed you, sweetie.' She squatted a little so he could jump to the floor and watched as he ran off to get the battered notebook she'd filled with the letters of the alphabet for him to trace and copy.

Ziggy Gardener did have a bit more of a ring to it anyway, she thought as she smiled gently, watching him poke out his tongue as he traced over the letters ever so carefully with a stub of a pencil.


	4. Chapter 3: Alone

**Alone**

When Little Ziggy was at school for the first time in 2006 (age 5), he was so excited. He'd be ready well before they needed to begin the few blocks walk, all dressed up in his nicest clothes with his hair still a total mess, and would chatter all through the afternoon about the new things they were learning. He'd bring home his artworks and Diana would help him put them into their 'precious things' folder, because Alex didn't like them leaving around the 'rubbish'.

His teachers could already tell Ziggy was smart, and had told Diana so. His letters were clear and sentences made sense. He spoke with certainty about many of the topics his class was learning about and he read chapter books with an ease that the teachers wouldn't expect of someone with 3 years on him. He had already taken placement grades and the school was looking to put him where he would benefit the most.

Ziggy was a bit like a sponge. He absorbed every bit of information and was able to store it for easy recall. Not only that but he was about to _use _the information, connect it to other things he already knew and work out new things for himself. The teachers were amazed and tried to get Diana to put him into a special school or at least get him a private tutor, but the Grovers simply couldn't afford it. It didn't stop Diana enriching his environment whenever she could. Ziggy and her were on first name basis with the town library and the doormen at the museum always gave them a discount. The Michaels still made sure he kept up with his Spanish and he was basically fluent! Diana couldn't work out who was prouder, them or herself.

But now? Things weren't going so well.

Alex had just lost his job due to cut backs and he hadn't been able to find a new one. That meant food was even scarcer than it was before as there was even less money available to get food. The entire family was beginning to look even more malnourished, especially little Ziggy, who was never going to look anything other than skinny. Diana was fairly certain that he was going to grow up that way, just a little too skinny and a little lanky. She knew that growing up under nourished usually stunted growth…She glanced over to where the child was reading through another book, barely seeing his tuft of wild hair and smiled, he would definitely never be tall, though that was partially her fault as it was. He had the short gene from her side of the family.

Diana continued adding up the months bills and rent against what she had earned so far at the diner and it wasn't looking like they'd be getting much more food any time soon. Thankfully, the Michaels last child had moved out and they were willing to share the little extra food they had on the down low, otherwise she was fairly sure they would have already starved.

A loud thumping echoed through the walls and Diana looked towards the front door with a hint of fear in her eyes.

'Ziggy, sweetie, why don't you go read in your room for a bit, ok?'

Ziggy, who was staring at the door fearfully himself, swung his head to stare at her with tears in his eyes. 'Mama, no,' he whimpered, leaving the book on the floor and running over to hug her, hiding his face in her skirt.

Diana close her eyes for a moment, feeling tears prick them as she hated herself for the fact that her child had learnt to fear his own father. Hated that they had ever been put in this situation. She hugged him back briefly before pushing him away and towards his room, Ziggy looking at her with wide eyes before turning to go hide in the cupboard like she'd taught him to.

'WHERE ARE YOU, YOU WORTHLESS BITCH?' Alex yelled, stumbling through the door drunk, hitting the doorway on the way through. He found DIana and advanced towards her, Diana moving slowly backwards with her hands in front of her.

'Alex? Alex, please, Ziggy is just in the next room.' She tried, quietly.

'HE'S NEXT! THAT WASTE OF SPACE IS THE REASON I'M IN THIS HELL WITH YOU!'

'Ziggy had NOTHING to do with this, it was our OWN faults! We should have known better and you shouldn't be _blaming _him for what isn't his fault!'

Alex lunged towards her and Diana sprinted, putting the couch between Alex and herself, tears making their way down her cheeks. 'Alex, please. Please stop this.' She cried, feeling the aches from the last few times this had occurred making themselves known. She cringed and tried to loosen her muscles, but seeing him so worked up wasn't good for relaxing.

Alex took that pause to leap over the couch, grabbing Diana by her hair and wrenching her head back, making her cry out in pain. She tried to curl into a ball to protect herself as the blows began to start, but Alex was relentless, eventually forcing her to the floor, where she curled up, but he simply began kicking at her sides and arms. As he paused to catch his breath, Diana forced herself up from the floor, tripping Alex before moving to the door. Alex threw a small glass vase at her, it hit the doorway next to her, but she still cried out as some of the broken pieces cut her arm and face.

Diana paused at the door, tears streaming as she glanced towards the hallway Ziggy's room was down. She turned back as she heard Alex grunting as he tried to get himself up again and let out a desperate sob as she turned and escaped out the front door.

**XOXOXOX**

Ziggy crept out of the cupboard after the house had been silent for a whole half hour. Mama had always told him that if she didn't come get him, he needed to wait, to make sure that Daddy didn't get mad at him too. But he didn't really understand why Daddy would get mad at Mama. Mama was really nice.

He crept down the hallway slowly, moving towards the lounge room. 'Mama?' Ziggy whispered, as he peered around the corner. Seeing the glass on the floor, he quickly ran into his room and strapped on his shoes. Mama had always said that there are pieces of glass that were too small to see if a glass broke. He moved out into the living room, glancing at Daddy, who was snoring on the floor.

'Mama?' He repeated, a little louder this time as he looked around, not seeing her anywhere.

'Mummy!?' He started calling, running into the hallway outside their apartment to see Senora Michaels looking at him sadly as he tried to find Mama.

'Senora! Senora! Have you seen Mama? I can't find her!' He asked, grabbing onto her pants with tears running down his face.

'Oh, mi corazon, your mama had to go for a bit. She's going to find a safe place for you and her to stay, so you'll just need to stay with us tonight. Ok, chico?'

Ziggy nodded mutely as Senora Michaels led him inside and sat him down at the table, placing a bowl of soup in front of him.

The next day, Ziggy's father had packed up their things. By that afternoon, he had grabbed Ziggy from the Michaels' and had driven them to the next town, Ziggy crying the whole way.

The day after, Diana had come in, beaming through her bruises and cuts about a friend from high school that was willing to give them a place to stay until they could get on their feet.

It was Senora Michaels who held her when she broke down after they told her Alex had already taken Ziggy and gone.

Ziggy was alone.


	5. Chapter 4: Hide Away

**Hide Away**

Ziggy cringed as he heard his father coming up the hallway of their new apartment. He had taken him while Mama had been gone and hadn't told anyone where they were going. They had driven for hours before they got to a big city, Daddy said it was to teach Mama a lesson for some reason. Ziggy didn't really get it, because Mama said you were taught lessons when you were bad. What had Mama done that was so bad?

Daddy had told him that his name was Ziggy Grover now, if anybody at school asked, and that he was to never tell anyone any different. Ziggy didn't exactly know why, but he thought it was kind of cool having a new name. It sounded a bit weird when he said it, but Grover sounded cooler than Gardener anyway and he preferred Ziggy before they'd moved.

He quickly cleaned up all his school work and hid it away under his mattress, where it would be safe. He quickly sat at the table quietly as Daddy came in red faced again. Ziggy cringed, that meant he was drunk.

'Worthless piece of _shit! _It's your fault all this crap has happened to me! I was gonna to be a professional athlete! I was gonna be rich and famous and have girls falling at my feet! You know what I have now? NOTHING. All because of you!' He hit Ziggy across the face and he fell back with a small whimper, looking up at Alex with large, tear-filled eyes and grasping his cheek.

'I had to deal with that bitch for years! All because of YOU!' he screamed, kicking at the small child who curled up against the wall with a sharp cry.

Alex stumbled to the fridge, dragging out another bottle of beer, guzzling it down. Ziggy slowly got up, grasping at his side before he started running down the hallway to his room. With a roar, Alex threw the now empty bottle after him, it smashing just to the side of his face as he slammed the door of his room shut and locked the door. He stepped back as he heard his father's footsteps, the man rattling the door and hurling himself at it.

Tears began to make their way down Ziggy's cheek as he stepped into the wardrobe and closed the door, curling up in the corner and holding his hands over his ears, rocking slightly with his eyes screwed shut.

Mummy would find him soon, right? Until then, he just needed to hide away.


	6. Chapter 5: Gone, Gone Away

**Gone, Gone Away**

Miss Lucas prided herself on her teaching.

…It seemed a bit self-centered, but she truly did. She was an elementary teacher and she loved it. She loved working with the children, playing with them, teaching them about the world around them. She found it very rewarding and she was always looking for ways to improve herself.

One of the reasons Miss Lucas thought she was such a good teacher for her class of grade twos was the fact she didn't treat them like they were stupid. Miss Lucas was a firm believer that, if given the opportunity to prove it, children tended to know more then their parents gave them credit for. She liked to ask kids questions about issues that adults had trouble discussing and hearing their innocent minds interpret it so simply and easily that she always hated the fact that one day they'd grow up.

She also loved the fact that one good kid could make up for five bad ones.

The bad ones would try so, so hard to ruin your day, by throwing things, screaming, refusing to do their work, picking fights…the list went on (it wasn't like this was a private school, after all. They didn't get to chose their students here). They would leave you tearing out your hair, crying in your car in the parking lot. The ones that led to the late afternoon gorges on chocolate and, sometimes, a very stiff drink. The worst ones physically made you fear for your life.

But there was always that one gorgeous child who acted like an angel and thought that everything they learnt was fascinating. They would show up in the morning with a bright smile on their face and would hang on _every _word you said. They would ask so many questions, they'd look around with wide-eyed wonder and they always looked at you like you had the answers to the meaning of life. They were polite to a fault, always wanting to know more, more more.

Miss Lucas smiled at the small child that moved quietly into the class. That's what Ziggy was to her. That perfect little ray of sunshine that made all the trouble kids worth it. The adorable boy only had him and his dad, and Miss Lucas was noticing more and more that Ziggy came to her with most questions that one normally reserved for their parents.

She smiled at him as he grinned tiredly back at her, placing his bag on the rack and sitting down quietly at his desk, pulling out a book he'd been reading by himself. At first she'd been surprised when he started pulling out books she knew the grade 5 teachers were assigning to their kids; novels and the like. But it seemed like Ziggy had been reading these kinds of books for awhile. He also had no trouble with the math she had to teach them and it wasn't uncommon for her to slip him a small booklet talking about the harder maths that the older grades were doing and he'd do it by himself while she taught the rest of the class.

Ziggy was absurdly smart, smarter than people gave him credit for. He certainly didn't look like much: all thin bones and no meat or muscle with a comically wild mop of curls that played hair, eyes too big for his face and clothes that were far too big for him, but as soon as he opened his mouth? That boy could hold his own in any discussion with an adult. Be it about schoolwork, or a novel, or a recent news item or even politics! The teachers at the school were not hesitant to say that Ziggy was a prodigy, smart well beyond his years. Give him a decent enough explanation of a concept and he had in memorised in moments, putting it to use correctly and without aid within half an hour. (Mr Olsen, a seventh grade teacher who enjoyed chemistry, had tested that theory, explaining to him various chemical equations and showing him some examples and within minutes Ziggy had found extra, harder, questions online, completing them at a speed that would put senior high school chemistry students to shame).

When his first teacher at this school, his first grade teacher, Mr Thomas, tried to talk to his father about Ziggy's potential, he was violently shut down. His father didn't want him getting put up, didn't want him noticed, didn't want him getting any special treatment. But there was a slight conspiracy at this school now, regarding Ziggy. Various teachers 'happened' to offer him homework or books that were far too advanced for his years, covered in something childlike to cover it from his father. The grin Ziggy gave them once he realised what they were doing was worth the extra effort, and it warmed the teachers' hearts to see the child grinning so happily.

There were a few conspiricies that involved Ziggy at this school, however.

Another was 'We have too much lunch, here Ziggy, have some,' which occurred every lunch time since the teachers had realised he never seemed to have lunch. It often involved a second phase of 'Here, I'm not hungry, take this home for later' as well, to give him something to have in the afternoon.

The final was 'Spot the difference', where the teachers watched for any changes in Ziggy's movement. Miss Lucas had to admit, he was very good at hiding any aches he had, but the first time he had a bruise on his cheek like a handprint that he had insisted came from a door, they started paying more attention. Looked closer whenever Ziggy seemed to wince when he sat down, rubbed salve on his arms when they had fingers marked on them, gave him some Panadol whenever his eyes seemed a little too watery and had him go 'help the Nurse in the office' whenever the marks under his eyes seemed to grow a little too dark.

Not to say they didn't report it. They tried reporting it so many times. They confronted Mr. Grover every time they could, but he was barely ever home and Ziggy refused to admit that something was happening. Whenever they got a police officer or child protective services officer involved, he somehow managed to hide any evidence he was hurt and his dad was somehow always at work whenever they came to talk to him.

No matter how often they told him they knew it was happening, or that it was ok to tell them, Ziggy would always look at them with old eyes and say 'You have it wrong, Miss. There's nothing going on.'

It broke all the teachers' hearts.

This time though….this time they were worried. Ziggy hadn't been to school in days, and the school had had no calls beyond Mr. Grover calling them on the first morning to say he was ill and wouldn't be in for a few days.

That's when they knew it had gone too far.

The police were there in the afternoon of the second day, throwing a drunk Mr. Grover against the wall as a female officer ran down the hallway, opening the doors until she came one locked from the outside. She unlocked it and moved in slowly, making just enough noise to alert anyone to her presense.

Ziggy was lying, pale, in the middle of the bed. Drops of blood surrounded him, his forehead was caked in it and his wrist seemed to be wrapped in a bandage, badly. The officer had been able to lift him up and carry him with no problem. He was dangerously underweight.

Mr. Grover was arrested for child abuse and neglect, and Ziggy said goodbye to his last family member.

When Ziggy was asked where his mother was, he told them he didn't know. That she had disappeared years ago. The officers thought that meant she had left him and her husband behind.

Ziggy didn't correct them.

He didn't correct them on his name either.

**XOXOXO**

After a few days staying with an officer as statements were taken and tests were performed, Ziggy was moved to an orphanage. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't fantastic. The head caretaker used to be a nurse until she retired and decided she'd rather help look after 'those poor, unfortunate children like yourself that have nowhere else to go'. She was nice, but with so many children there, she could only be nice to a few children at a time, unfortunately.

When child services were trying to do his paperwork, they noticed that Ziggy Grover didn't seem to exist. Without even asking, they assumed Alex had never filled out the paperwork and simply added that to his list of offenses. As it was, Ziggy Grover was given official looking documents with words like 'Birth Certificate' and 'Social Security' with the only parent on there down as 'Alex Grover'. He decided to leave his mother out of the mess, hoping that away from father she was starting to move on to the better things she deserved. So Ziggy Grover became a proper person, with all the proper paperwork and legal trails, and Samson Gardener became a person who once existed. He kept the name at the back of his mind though. Those cop shows said that aliases were always good to have, and Samson was a real person. It seemed even better.

For the first week or so, everything at the orphanage was good. The nurses paid special attention to him, making sure he was settled in, getting enough to eat, was sleeping and wasn't having nightmares. But, after that week or so, another, younger child was shuffled in, looking just as horrible as Ziggy, and Ziggy was left alone. He didn't blame anyone for that. Years of being alone, or hiding, or always being with adults meant he couldn't really connect with the kids his age. That and the fact he seemed to know so much more meant that they avoided him anyway.

After a while, the older, bigger kids seemed to realise he was the perfect target: quiet, a loner by nature, small... At first they tried just teasing him, but Ziggy gave as good as he got until they realised he was smart, very smart. Much smarter than them. That's when they started preying on the one thing they could to teach him that being smart was the stupidest move he could ever make.

He couldn't fight back.

His small body wasn't strong enough to break away when they grabbed him. His arms and legs not strong enough to fight back. He was quite good at running, but when they realised that, the older kids just learnt to corner or surround him.

He tried saying something the first few times, but the older kids always helped the Nurses so the Nurses simply didn't believe them the type, telling Ziggy to stop making up stories and the fights after he tried to talk were always much worse than they were if he didn't.

When he realised that no one believed him…that no one would help him, Ziggy just learnt to play dumb, to fade away, to become an unimportant detail. He did nothing to bring attention to himself and he got so good at it even the bullies started to forget he was there.

After all, if there was one thing Ziggy had been told often, it was that he was quite smart.


	7. Chapter 6: What's the Point?

**What's the Point?**

When he moved to the orphanage, Ziggy had been allowed a week or so off school. Partially, this was to give his injuries some time to heal, but it was also so he could get used to being an orphan.

Alone.

Well, he supposed he wasn't really alone. His mum was still out there somewhere and he was sure if he looked hed be able to find his grandparents. His parents had never said they were _gone, _just that he should never try to find them. He had worked out quite a while ago, while listening to one of his parents many constant arguments, that they had apparently freaked when his mum had worked out she was pregnant. They'd kicked her out and his dad's parents had made him move out with her to 'face the consequences of his actions' after getting them legally married. They were apparently _very _traditional and, yea. Therefore Ziggy didn't know any of his extended family and really had no plans to find them.

It had been a bit over a year after he had moved to the orphanage now, and Ziggy was a very bitter, cynical and serious nine year old, which didn't exactly make him the most adoptable of children. He didn't mind though, at this stage he was pretty sure he was cursed anyway. All his parents' problems seemed to trace back to him and even though the smarter part of him _knew _it wasn't really his fault (and that his mum would absolutely hate the fact he was even suggesting it), the part that was still a little kid didn't want to risk it.

After 'the incident', when he was finally taken from his dad and Ziggy Grover became an actual person (with legal records and everything! He'd been very excited about that), Ziggy's interest in schooling dropped significantly. What was the point of it all? When he thought about it, he'd realised…what real use did he have for what he was learning?

Ziggy, after all, prided himself on being smart. It was the one thing he'd felt proud of practically his entire life. Whenever he'd told his mum some random fact or gone through algebra with his mum at the kitchen table, she would always have the massive smile on her face and she always looked so happy and so _proud _of him. But what we the point in learning about why the leaves changed colours in Autumn? Or the average rainy days of a certain place? Or even the history of America?

He got that that stuff was interesting and all, but what did it have to do with the future?

When it was just him and mum sitting at the kitchen table, he remembered babbling to her about all the cool things he'd one day build. From giant robots, to teleporters, to awesome cars and trucks. His mum had always been supportive nad he remembered her saying particularly that 'I believe that you can do whatever you put your mind to, Little Ziggy. And that whatever catches your eye will be lucky indeed'. How was he supposed to do all that stuff learning about the different types of fish in the sea? He wasn't.

It happened over an extended period of time. The school he had been at since he had become Ziggy Grover had shut down and the new school's files didn't contain how smart he really was because, of course, it technically hadn't happened. His father had never wanted it encouraged, so the teachers had kept it quiet. At the start, he was still top of his classes and still paid attention. Eventually, he still did his work and did it well, but he became very, very good at hiding a book about something entirely different from the teacher. Finally, he stopped pretending to pay attention all together. He'd spend all night reading books about engineering and computer sciences from the library and would use school to sleep. He refused to pay attention to things that weren't going to help with what he wanted to do later.

The teachers began to think he was stupid and couldn't pay attention. Ziggy didn't correct them. It was better if people didn't know that he was smart. If the kids at the orphanage didn't think he was smarter than them, or, even better, if they thought he was stupider, they were much more likely to leave him alone. In his mind that was always a plus.

His teachers and the orphanage staff kept telling him off, that he needed to pay attention in school and do better. That he would need what he was learning. But Ziggy knew otherwise. He'd already learnt maths from his mother and science from the teachers at his old school that snuck him harder work and now he was finding everything he needed in books at the library.

That and if he really needed help he could usually ask an online forum and there were plenty of people on there that didn't know his actual age and were therefore happy to tell him all the answers without reservations they may feel because of his age.

The orphanage staff said he shouldn't feel so happy while he was destroying his future, but he felt he had every reason to be happy. After all, that mechanic two blocks over was always more than happy to let him watch him at work, explaining all the different parts and how everything work, and the man at the tech store was more than happy to give him old parts he didn't need to work with, letting him help put various computers back together and teaching him about software and coding whenever he wasn't busy. They both praised him enough to more than make up for everything else.

The mechanic was helping him as they reconstructed an old car together, beaming as Ziggy managed to grab something before he reminded him he needed it, and how he added something here and there to make it better than it would have been normally.

The computer tech was watching with pride as Ziggy built his first computer with spare parts from a thousand different models and coded a user interface and various programs from scratch as he required them. Ziggy, while not named and never given a age or place, was the talk of quite a few internet forums as the man talked to his other counter parts about the work Ziggy was doing.

So yes, Ziggy might not have been doing so fantastically at school, but he didn't feel it mattered. Because in the long run? Even though he wasn't learning what they wanted him to know, in the long run, Ziggy was learning what he felt he needed to learn. Some kids decided to specialise in high school and college, deciding then what they wanted to do and working ridiculously hard to learn everything they needed in the short span of a few years. Ziggy just looked at it as specialising early. He was going to know everything he needed for his 'future' long before he needed to, and he definitely thought that was a good thing.

A girl at the library once told him there was a word for what he was doing, autodidactism, and he thought that summed everything up rather well. It wasn't exactly right, but it seemed closest. He was choosing his own educational path, reviewing choices as they came and taking the ones that benefited him the most.

No one would ever convince him that he was doing anything wrong.


End file.
